Shore Leave
by Kavery12
Summary: Sometimes it takes a captain to know a captain. Jim and Dean connect on a leader's level. Sam thinks captains are high maintenance and he's probably right.


I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

This is connected to my previous story _The Tamir Incident_. Reading that first will definitely help but it's not essential. All you need to know is that Dean Winchester is captain of the USS _Impala_ and Sam Winchester is his first officer.

Captain James T. Kirk was not having a stupendous week. His ship had gotten beaten around an asteroid field, he'd lost three security personnel to a psychotic group of fundamentalist colonists and his first officer was sleeping off a rather nasty gas attack in sick bay.

He had shooed off most of his too-tense command crew to go have fun on their short shore leave instead of sitting around babysitting their self-pitying captain, which was how he found himself sitting alone in a dark corner of a typical Starfleet shore leave dive nursing a rather thin-tasting local beer.

If he was to be perfectly honest, he was spoiling for a good bar fight.

So when he heard a loud-mouthed first officer spouting off about how Kirk's fellow captain and new friend Dean Winchester had gained his ship through less than scrupulous means, Kirk decided to set him straight.

Upon later reflection, picking a fight with the dude and his six buddies probably wasn't Kirk's best decision ever, but hey, nobody's perfect.

So Kirk sauntered over and bandied words with the jackass and let him throw the first punch. Then Kirk hit back. Split knuckles, black eyes, hazy smoke in a bar, cocky grins, sharp words and swinging fists – Jim Kirk in one of his natural elements. He was well on his way to winning a satisfying beat down when one of Jackass' friends hit Kirk over the head with a bar stool and sent him flat down to kiss the stained space-station floor. Rivets mashed into his face and stars burst before his eyes.

He came up fighting but by that point, Kirk was outnumbered and out-flanked.

All the bravado, scrappiness and sheer stubborn Kirk-ness didn't save him from getting his ass tossed towards the door, only to thud into a very broad, solid chest that caught him with a startled "Whoa!"

"Hey buddy," Kirk slurred. "Sorry 'bout that. Shove me towards my friends and I'll be out of your hair."

"Jim?" the freakishly big person asked.

"Jim Kirk?" his partner demanded.

"Oh hey, it's Dean! And, and Commander Winch-ester."

"Sam," the giant corrected.

"You're tall," Kirk complimented. "Shove me back into the fight?"

"Ah, I don't think that'll be possible, Jim."

"What, why?"

Sam hoisted Kirk up and spun him around gently. "Aw man," Kirk complained. "Dean, I wanted to beat them up."

Captain Dean Winchester, resplendent in twenty first century jeans, a black t-shirt, biker boots and a worn vintage leather jacket, had just finished wiping the floor with Kirk's assailants.

"Damn Kirk, how much have you had to drink? And where's your crew?" Dean demanded in gruff, friendly tones.

"Eh," the _Enterprise_'s captain scrunched up his nose and winced at the already puffy bruising. "I told them to go away cuz I was shit company tonight. 'Course I didn't tell them that ez-egg-exactly cuz then they wouldn't have left me alone, you know? They're good people. But I'm shit company tonight."

Sam sighed and handed the inebriated armful of captain over to his brother. "He's your problem now. I'll go hang out by the bar while you two do your captain thing. Get him into better shape."

The younger brother watched fondly as the two very similar men shuffled off to a booth, where Kirk began waving his arms about wildly and Dean listened carefully, animated and engaged. "Keep the beer flowing over there, will you?" Sam asked the bartender. "I'll cover the tab."

He sat and watched their backs like any good first officer would, since it seemed that Spock wasn't available tonight – in sick bay if Kirk's mood was anything to go by, but not seriously injured. Just enough to throw off Kirk's equilibrium and make him miserable.

And of course, Dean Winchester's coping mechanism was much like Jim Kirk's – get as smashed as possible, tell lurid drunken stories and hit on everything female and attractive. It certainly didn't hurt that both men were (Sam borrowed Ellen's exasperated phrase) charm personified.

So when the bar was closing down for the night (morning) and Kirk seemed to be in a healthier frame of mind, Sam dragged his sibling and friend out to the rented mini-hover car with minimal assistance from the bouncer and drove them home. They only had to pull over for puking once and none of it ended up in the car, so Sam counted it as a win.

He also sent a message to Dr. McCoy when they arrived. A very worried, gruff doctor immediately called him back. "We've been looking for him for ages," Bones growled and Sam winced.

"Sorry, I would have called you sooner had I thought of it but Dean seemed to be working alcohol therapy and getting somewhere. Unless you've got something planned, I'll bring him back before noon. Hopefully minus a hangover."

The southern doctor glared at Sam for a minute, and Sam's self-preservation instinct deliberately exuded his best boy-next-door charm, complete with wide, tired eyes. "Boy, don't think I don't know what you're doing," McCoy grumbled and Sam blinked cherubically. Tougher men and women had crumbled before this tactic and Sam could spot a closet softie from a mile away. Bones sighed and capitulated. "Good lord Sam, just tell me he didn't do anything too stupid."

Success, Sam cheered mentally. "He was getting the crap kicked out of him when we arrived, but Dean handled it. Then they spent several hours bitching about how being a captain would be hard if they weren't so awesome before telling tall tales and hitting on women. I think there was serious conversation in there somewhere."

The doctor actually looked relieved for a minute. "Well," he coughed, "thank you, both of you." Then the frown settled in again. "Make sure he's not dehydrated, that he eats breakfast and he's allergic to just about all fruits and…" Sam just found it easier to nod and pretend to pay attention until McCoy ran out of steam.

He then collapsed into bed. Shore leave was always exhausting. And Dean wondered why Sam liked to spend his shore leave on the _Impala_ running impossible predictions and catching up on his science journals.

Captains were high maintenance.

Spock could have Kirk back as soon as he'd take him.

* * *

><p><em>The morning after…<em>

The mother of all hangovers seemed to be visiting Kirk this fine…morning/afternoon/sometime. The five piece band could leave the vicinity of his brain any time now.

A decidedly masculine groan resounded in his ear.

Kirk yelped in a manly fashion.

He and his bed mate sprang apart in a very captain-like manner.

"Kirk?"

"Winchester? What the hell?"

"SAMMY!"

Both men clutched their heads. "_Fuck_ Dean, don't yell like that," Kirk groaned as a very chipper Sam Winchester stuck his head into the hotel suite.

"Good morning sunshines!" he carolled blithely. "It's eleven am and according to both Ellen and Bones I am not allowed to cure your hangovers. I believe both said "Serves the idiots right." Breakfast is cooking although it's more like brunch. First one in the shower gets dibs."

There was a brief, slightly murderous fight for the bathroom which Winchester won only because Kirk was definitely feeling last night's brawl.

Once everyone was settled around the table and approaching vaguely human, Winchester turned a jaundiced eye on his brother. "Why the hell was I sharing the bed with a _man_, Sammy?"

The younger Winchester smiled angelically. "Because I had to drag your drunk, sorry asses in here last night at 3:30 in the morning by myself. Then I had to call Bones to tell him that Jim hadn't gotten himself killed last night. That was no picnic. And the _Impala_ disembarks tonight. I need my rest. I'm bigger than both of you, so I got the other bed. You two didn't complain last night when I gave you the choice."

"Were we conscious for that choice, Sam?" Winchester's voice was considerably rougher than usual and edging towards dangerous. Didn't seem to affect Sam though, so Kirk kicked him under the table. Just on principle.

But not too hard because Kirk could remember Sam catching him, holding him up while Winchester beat the shit out of the mooks who broke a bar stool over his head. He also recalled Winchester listening to all the crap that had gone down and how Kirk was second-guessing his command decisions. Winchester had surprisingly pithy advice.

Then there were lots of booze and girls.

It hadn't been an awful night after all.

The door chimed and Sam yelled "It's open," which caused both Kirk and Winchester to wince and glare.

"Captain?" a very welcome, controlled baritone called into the hotel suite.

"Spock!" Kirk perked up right away. "How're you feeling? Did Bones let you out of the infirmary?"

"I am well Jim, thank you for your concern."

And suddenly it was a slightly better week for Captain James T. Kirk.


End file.
